Page 33 of The Summer Swap

Lily stood up quickly and carried her mug to the kitchen. “I probably should leave if you’re sure you don’t need me. I wouldn’t have come if I’d known you were going to be here. The company didn’t tell me anyone was staying, but you should find everything clean and in perfect working order.”

“The company didn’t tell you I was going to be here because I didn’t tell them. And it’s lucky for me that you did come early this morning, or I would have been in some trouble. Please don’t rush off.”

“I should probably get home.”

“And where is home? Where are you staying?”

Lily sent Cecilia a desperate look.

That look told Cecilia that she didn’t want to lie but was scared of telling the truth.

That look confirmed Cecilia’s suspicions.

“This is where you’ve been staying, isn’t it? This is your home.” She saw the panic in Lily’s eyes and wondered what someone like her was doing staying all alone in a property that didn’t belong to her.

It was oddly reassuring to know that she wasn’t the only one whose life was a complicated mess.

“Sit down, Lily. We need to have a talk.”

8

Lily

And now she knew who owned Dune Cottage. The mystery was solved.

Why hadn’t she guessed? That was pretty simple to answer. She’d been to the Lapthorne house, and it was the size of a museum with grounds as big as a park. They owned a beach house in The Hamptons. Another house in Manhattan. They had a place in France—or was it Italy? Every property could sleep a dozen people comfortably.

Dune Cottage wasn’t a statement property, like the ones she cleaned on a daily basis. It wasn’t a spacious beach house with glass walls and a swimming pool. It was normal (as much as any property in this part of the Cape could be described as “normal”—it was all about perspective). She’d assumed that at some point it had been a much-loved family retreat, but that the children had grown up and the cottage forgotten.

It hadn’t crossed her mind that the reason there were paintings by Cameron Lapthorne on the wall was because the place belonged to him.

According to the company she worked for, no one ever stayed in the cottage. Lily never would have chosen to stay here had she known the owner might show up.

She felt sick. She was also cold after her night on the beach, and her eyes stung from lack of sleep. “Are you going to call the police?” She imagined calling her family from the police station. Hi, Mom, my new life isn’t going so well...

Cecilia raised her eyebrows. “Why ever would I call the police?”

“I’ve been staying here.” Saying it aloud made her wonder what on earth had made her do such a thing. Her parents had raised her to be honest and law-abiding. Her life had been all about studying hard and getting top grades. About aspiration and achievement. She’d been on a carefully curated path, running to keep up with people until she’d fallen hard. Until something inside her had snapped.

She was no longer a high achiever. She was someone who stayed in properties that didn’t belong to them. She was someone who broke the law. “It was wrong of me.”

“I’m sure you had your reasons,” Cecilia said. “Did you pick the lock on the front door or break a window to gain access?”

“No. I used my key.”

“Exactly. You had a key. All you really did was stay a little longer than was probably expected of you. You appear to have kept the cottage in immaculate condition. Until I came along.” Cecilia patted her arm. “I feel guilty for making such a mess. And I’m grateful to you because if you hadn’t been here, I might have bled to death. You have excellent first aid skills and you’ve been very kind to me. I don’t intend to repay that kindness by calling the police. You were here last night when I arrived?”

There seemed no point in lying.

“I was sleeping in the attic room. The noise woke me.”

“The noise? Oh, you mean the paintings. I didn’t know there was anyone in the place. I wasn’t paying attention. I was—I had other things on my mind.” Cecilia’s cheeks flushed pink and she shifted in her seat. “You saw that? You must have thought it very odd.”

She looked so uncomfortable and embarrassed that Lily wanted to reassure her—no, I didn’t see a thing—but how could she do that?

This was the most awkward conversation she’d had in a while. What was she supposed to say? I thought you were batshit crazy. “You seemed upset. I was worried.” And she was still worried. Without the paintings the walls looked bare and unfinished. The cottage was as bruised and damaged as its owner. She hoped the owners of the company she worked for didn’t pick today to do a random check or she’d be arrested for destruction of property.

“I was upset. And the fact that you saw that explains why you thought my unfortunate encounter with the glass was something other than an accident. But it was an accident.” Cecilia paused. “What happened after you heard me? Were you here all night?”

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